


Bad dreams

by Yellowbirdbluetoo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 16:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17749496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellowbirdbluetoo/pseuds/Yellowbirdbluetoo
Summary: On particularly bad nights, his mind likes to taunt him with the past, things that seemed more trivial now, but came back like hound dogs on his heels to chase him off a cliff.





	Bad dreams

It’s the always been same at least two nights a week, every week since he’s been 11. A nightmare or two, striking him in the middle of the night, stealing his breath and waking him in a cold sweat, terse yells tearing themselves from his throat. 

This night is no different. 

-/-

He’s in the graveyard again. Not an uncommon occurrence. This one happens on the same level of him watching Sirius die. 

But at least for that one he’d been told nearly a million times by Ron and Hermione both that it was his fault, and he couldn’t have prevented it, Cedric is different. 

They argue the same points. He couldn’t have known, it wasn’t his fault, Voldermort was obviously at fault. And yes, that last one was correct. It was HIS plan, but Cedric wasn’t involved in it. 

He was only there because Harry was there. Because he was near Harry. Because Harry fucking Potter is a magnet for fucked up things to happen to people he cares about and good people who don’t deserve it.

He deserves it. His parents, Sirius, Cedric-

“Kill the spare”.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”.

-

He wakes up with a loud strangled noise escaping his throat, green light flashing behind his eyes a lightning flash recap of Cedric’s body falling to the ground dead.

Another yell escapes, uncontrollably and he draws his knees up to his chest, sobbing pulling at his hair, wishing it would all just disappear.

Sometimes he honestly wished he had died with Voldermort.

-

Ron and Hermione are upstairs within minutes, Ron stumbling only a few seconds after since he was harder to wake than a hibernating troll.

They sit on both sides, and Hermione carefully takes his hands from his hair, holding on in her own and rubbing her thumb over his fingers, and Ron takes the other, shaking it gently.

“Harry, hey mate your okay”.

“We’re all in 12 Grimmauld place its-“. A glance at the clock. “1:23 am, your in Sirius’s old room”.

“Breath mate”.

He doesn’t stop crying, but the sobbing fades away to simple gasping and sniffling. He tries to focus on his breathing like Hermione says, taking in the hushed tones of their voices.

“He hasn’t one this bad in a while”.

“Should we try the medication again?”.

“No”. He hates the medication. It gives him a dreamless sleep most of the time yes, but it leaves his bones and eyes heavy, and his mind sluggish. Dreams black to the point he thinks he’s finally gone.

He almost misses Ron speak. “Alright mate. No medication”.

“Harry, do you want us to stay with you for tonight?”.

“Yeah you know we don’t mind”.

He almost says no, because he hates bothering them, no matter how much they say it doesn’t. But a flash of Cedric’s body collapsed onto the ground makes him nod slowly.

It’s a slow process, getting him to wind down again. They speak about their day in quiet voices, refix this blankets that were messed up from his thrashing.

Hermione caresses his hair, and Ron makes sure to grip his hand, as hey lay on either side of him.

They speak in reassurances, comfort, and calming and he lets his eyes slip shut, and as he falls away he thinks of them.

And he stays asleep


End file.
